


real

by cautiouslyoptimistic



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22993960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cautiouslyoptimistic/pseuds/cautiouslyoptimistic
Summary: she learned of the plan sometime between lex getting arrested and his trialor, lex and lillian recruit lena for a nefarious plot but she finds herself distracted by kara's smile
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 23
Kudos: 583





	real

She learned of the plan sometime between Lex getting arrested and his trial. His eyes were crazed, the words spewing out of his mouth irrational and erratic. Of course Lillian agreed with him—of course they’d pull Lena aside and ask her to help. Of course Lena would fall into line as well. She was a Luthor, this was her family.

If her family asked for her help in ending the Supers…well, Lena would of course offer her assistance.

(It didn’t matter that she didn’t understand why Lex’s idea of revenge revolved around the Girl of Steel instead of her cousin—why he had decided to abandon his vendetta against Superman and focus on Supergirl. It certainly didn’t matter that Supergirl had done nothing to the Luthor family, that she had been miles upon miles away when Superman finally took Lex down, not even coming to her cousin’s aid. It didn’t matter that, by all accounts, Supergirl spent more time stopping other aliens than she did going after humans.

No, Lena didn’t understand Lex’s hatred of Supergirl, but she didn’t question it—didn’t ask for a clarification, didn’t ask for a reason. It just didn’t matter.

Lex was her brother, he’d asked her to do something, and so Lena had a job to do.)

x

“Hate them,” Lex had told her after one of his very first public confrontations with Superman, back when the Luthor name still meant something and wasn’t synonymous with ‘evil.’ He stood in their father’s old study, tinkering with something on the desk (his latest invention to defeat the Supers, she thought), his lips contorted into a snarl, his voice barely above a hiss. “Hate them for what they did to our family. Feel that rage in your chest, allow that anger to fester throughout your being, and _hate_ them.”

Looking at Kara Danvers now, Lena was quick to call upon her brother’s words, his warnings that these Supers were deceptively charming—able to seem good and pure when all they knew was chaos and destruction. _Hate them_ , he had said, and Lena obeyed her older brother. He’d never led her astray before, he’d always been a solid presence—always willing to lend her his strength when her own was flagging. ( _Hate them_ , he told her, and so Lena did, if only to make this easier, if only to remind herself what she was doing and who she was doing it for.)

Kara Danvers was smaller than she thought a Super would be. Her shoulders were hunched, her hands fiddled with her glasses in an attempt to seem nervous or normal (it made Lena wonder just how much of Kara Danvers was truly the Super—just how much time this girl spent _pretending_ ). She babbled, she chattered, was naïvely quick to believe in others.

And she had a smile—a wide, uninhibited, _brilliant_ smile.

Despite the hatred she felt churning in her chest (Kara was a _Super_ , the reason her family was ruined), despite the disgust that rose in her throat (Kara was Clark Kent’s cousin, related to the man who had destroyed her brother), despite the reminders in her head about all the dangers (Kara was an _alien_ , capable of things beyond human imagining—a false _god_ , as Lex liked to say), the smile was…different.

The smile—unlike the hunched shoulders, the hands that fiddled with glasses, the babbling—was entirely Kara. It was her essence, her being, reduced to nothing but eyes that hinted at an unimaginable pain and a selfless and reckless abandon inscribed on her lips.

(It wasn’t as if _every_ smile was like that. Kara consisted entirely of an act: she pretended to be clumsy, she pretended to be forgetful, she pretended and pretended until the lines between reporter and Super probably blurred and even Kara forgot who she was. In keeping with the act, she had endless smiles—forced smiles, polite smiles, even one that had a touch of amusement in the corner of her eyes. 

But then there was one, one that wasn’t faked, one that wasn’t forced, one that Kara herself seemed surprised about. And somehow, Lena was the one who elicited it.

Lex would be…proud.)

It was the smile, in the end. It was the smile that had Lena get to her feet and tweak Lex’s plans. (She was supposed to get close to the Girl of Steel, she was supposed to be on friendly terms—someone who Supergirl wouldn’t think twice about, and thus give Lena a chance to stab her in the back at the first opportunity. She wasn’t…she wasn’t—she wasn’t supposed to care.)

“Kara,” she said softly, stopping Kara in her tracks as she headed to the door. Her hands were still in the pockets of her dress, that _smile_ —though somewhat faded—was still on her lips. “I was wondering…perhaps we could have lunch sometime soon? To show you my gratitude for the lovely article,” she added when Kara’s eyes widened.

(Kara was a _Super_ , Lena thought fiercely. She wouldn’t want anything to do with a Luthor—it wasn’t that Lena cared, Lena just wanted to feed the hatred that burned in her chest, that rattled at her ribs when Kara said no. She was a _Super_ , and Lena wanted her brother to be proven right about them.)

“O-oh,” Kara said, hand flying to her glasses, needlessly straightening it, blinking rapidly. “Um, yeah, of course.” She cleared her throat, her smile turning bashful and ducking her head a little. “You can’t pay for it, though,” she continued teasingly as Lena could do nothing but stare, not expecting Kara’s answer and floundering in light of it. “I’m pretty sure Snapper would call it unethical otherwise. But lunch…lunch sounds good—great.” She looked up then, eyebrows scrunching together as she took in Lena’s expression. “Lena?”

“The notion that my paying for a friend would be unethical…I just can’t believe it,” Lena said, recovering quickly, making Kara chuckle. One more wave and _real_ smile, and Kara was gone, leaving Lena alone in her office.

 _Hate them_ , Lex had told her. And Lena hated them. She did.

(Yet the churning in her chest and the rattling in her ribs seemed a lot less ferocious now than it had a moment ago.)

x

“You’re handling your part quite well,” Lillian admitted, not looking at Lena as she turned the alien detection device over in her hands. It had taken Lena nearly a week to fix it, Kara having burned most of the delicate portions of the device. (It was a reminder of the Supers’ destructiveness, their inability to care for other people’s work. She studiously refused to think about how frightened Kara looked at the mere prospect of being outed as an alien.) “You’ve had several lunches with her too, from what I hear. Though how you manage to eat without gagging with that _alien_ sitting across from you is beyond me.” Lillian muttered the last part, her focus mostly on the device, but Lena cringed. Her lunches with Kara had been…nice. She knew it was all an act, she knew Kara Danvers was nothing more than a persona—an empty shell—but Lena…Lena liked the character the Super played.

She was funny, she was kind, she was…sad.

“It’s been a struggle,” she commented drily when Lillian looked up at her, confused by her prolonged silence. “We’re even friends now.”

“Are you going to pursue it further like Lex suggested?” Lillian asked, raising her eyebrows. Lena wanted to pretend she didn’t understand the question, but her adoptive mother was watching her carefully, waiting for a lie. Lex was the one who recruited her for this task, Lex was the one who trusted her the most. Lillian…well, Lillian was still livid that when Lex first began his vendetta, Lena had tried to convince him to stop, that when she failed, Lena had kept herself out of her family’s way until they came calling on her to help. (She loved her family, she’d do _anything_ for her family. But Lillian’s distrust of her was well-earned: before now, Lena had never wanted any of this.)

“If I think there’s an opening…yes. I will.”

“Don’t forget it’s a job, Lena,” Lillian warned, placing the device on the table, her eyes narrowing. “You and I both know your emotions are…unpredictable. Don’t forget what you’re doing and who you’re doing it for.”

“Of course not,” Lena answered easily. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. When it came down to it, it was family against the world. And what had the world ever done for her? The Luthors took her in, the Luthors gave her a home, a life. And the world…the world just sat back as everything was taken from her. “Did you know about Lex sending Corben to kill me? For an act, it seemed remarkably real,” she said, unable to help herself. The Luthors were everything to her and yet…and yet the skepticism and suspicion was rampant between them. 

“Does it really matter, Lena?” Lillian asked, smiling benignly even as her eyes glinted with something more…sinister. “If you want to make this con believable you’ll have to be as unprepared as they are for my plans.” She pulled on her jacket and smiled, leaning forward to pat Lena’s cheek. “You’re smart, darling. You’ll figure it out.”

The words sounded like a warning, and Lena wondered just how far her family would go to bring Supergirl—and by extension Superman—to her knees.

x

Kara was looking at her funny.

Lena was not a self-conscious person. She was cool under pressure, hiding behind wall after wall of practiced aloofness and reserve. It had to be that way—no one could survive in her line of work, and with her last name, without an impenetrable disguise, an armor so thick that words and actions slipped off her like sludge and slime.

And yet, she was sure that Kara was looking at her funny.

“I thought you’d be more like Ms. Grant,” Kara finally said after the fifth time Lena caught her staring, finally exasperated enough to raise an eyebrow in question and bring a blush to Kara’s cheeks.

“I don’t understand,” Lena responded, unsure how to navigate such a fledgling friendship. She’d never really had friends growing up, content to spend her days alone, her nights huddled in bed with a flashlight and a book. People were always a mystery to her, and Kara was a problem compounded—not only did Lena not understand friendships, she wasn’t sure how one was to fake a friendship with an alien who ruined her family, an alien her brother wanted gone forever and had tasked _her_ with the job.

Kara didn’t immediately respond, content to play with the sleeve of her paper coffee cup, eyes focused on the table. She’d been the one to suggest coffee instead of lunch, claiming that she was busy with articles. But Lena had seen the news, knew that Supergirl was attempting to pacify violent anti-alien protesters, trying to convince them to accept others as they accepted her. When she finally looked up, something about her expression had changed. Her eyes—always sad, always hinting at darker secrets—seemed impossibly blue, impossibly broken.

(Lena was supposed to hate her, was supposed to feed the rage in her chest. But mostly, Lena just felt…sorry. Sorry that there was so much weight on shoulders, however strong they were, that weren’t meant to carry such a load alone.)

“Ms. Grant was… _intense_ , in a word,” Kara finally said, hand going to her glasses. For the first time, Lena saw it as less an act and more a habit. A tell. An indication of Kara’s state of mind. “She cared about everyone. I’m sure she did. But she had strange ways of showing it.” Kara chuckled a little, shrugging. “She pushed us to be the best we could be, she accepted nothing less than absolute perfection because she thought we were capable of it.”

“You don’t think I believe in perfection?” Lena joked, suddenly not liking the seriousness of Kara’s tone, the way her eyes seemed to see right through Lena, taking note of the soul within. The very thought chilled her to the core. (She hadn’t asked Lex if that was one of the powers the Supers had. She wished she had.)

“I think you’re like me,” Kara answered, shifting her gaze easily, choosing to watch people enter and leave the coffee shop instead. Lena wished she could ask what Kara saw, what she thought she saw, in that split second of terror in which Lena was sure her armor and walls and disguise all came crashing down.

“And what’s that?”

“Always looking for something that isn’t there.”

She didn’t elaborate and Lena spent the several hours back at work wondering if Kara meant they were looking for something in others or if they were searching for something within themselves. Perhaps Kara knew what it was like to look in the mirror and see gaps in the façade and wonder how those holes could be filled. Perhaps Kara felt the toll of acting and pretending as surely as Lena did.

But most damning of all, Kara’s question made Lena consider something else: perhaps they weren’t so different after all.

x

She _asked_ for her first real conversation with Supergirl, but she found that no amount of careful planning would have been enough to prepare her for when she was finally confronted with the Super.

The moment she heard about the thieves with alien technology, she knew it was her mother’s handiwork. Lillian was never subtle, and turning a government organization into a terrorist group seemed very much Lillian’s over the top style. Yet, the simple task of bringing a few thieves to justice was a perfect opportunity to further gain Supergirl’s trust, to show her that Lena was a Luthor, but that she wasn’t anything like her brother or mother.

(The irony, she thought, was that she was putting up an act when she truly wasn’t anything like her family. She remembered Lex’s crazed smile, his desperation to hurt Superman, and Lena wanted to scream—wanted to get into a car and drive, drive so far away that no one knew her or cared about her or immediately jumped to conclusions about her.

She remembered Lex’s rants and her mother’s hatred of all that was _different_ , and Lena wondered what exactly she thought she was trying to do by helping them, by earning Supergirl’s trust just to cut her down.)

And with Supergirl standing right in front of her, Lena once again thought about how she wasn’t anything like her family.

(She was supposed to hate, to rage, to fuel that churning and burning in her chest, to give into the itch at her fingertips and pull the trigger. Instead, Lena was…surprised.)

Supergirl and Kara Danvers were nothing alike. Supergirl’s back was straight, her shoulders tense but strong, righteous fury dancing in her eyes, confidence and faith in her every step, her every movement, her every word. Supergirl wasn’t Kara Danvers—where Kara Danvers hung her head and chuckled awkwardly, Supergirl stood tall and spoke clearly. Where Kara Danvers was bashful and considerate, where she was gentle and bumbling, Supergirl was sure of herself and forward, and despite all the power in the world at her fingertips, still somehow managing to be kind.

It was an act, it was all an act…and yet…

There were hints of Kara in Supergirl. There was the slight upward tilt of her head, the impossible blue of her eyes, the way that smile—that _real_ smile, the one thing Kara or Supergirl didn’t fake, couldn’t fake—tugged at her lips and hinted at all the pain of loss, all the sadness of loneliness, all the selflessness of duty. There was the way she breathed, as if both Kara and Supergirl were grateful for each breath even as they cursed it, a contradiction Lena didn’t (and likely couldn’t) understand.

And Lena _hated_ Supergirl. She hated the ‘S’ on her chest, the symbol emblazoned on her suit, proclaiming her to be Superman’s relative, his kin. She hated what that symbol meant for _her_ family (the fact that it was _that_ symbol that led Lex to madness, that had Lillian following him quickly thereafter). Lena _hated_ the pretending and the careful way Supergirl spoke, each word measured, each action tempered in some sort of attempt to hide (or perhaps to protect). She _hated_ Supergirl, not knowing what was an act and what was real, not knowing if even Kara could draw the distinction anymore—if Kara realized that she had been playing so many parts that her own character had somehow vanished and drowned in that flood of make-believe.

Lena _hated_ Supergirl (it was something Lex had taught her, something she took to heart to remind herself about what she was doing and who she was doing it for) but then Supergirl smiled that one real smile, the one that she couldn’t, or wouldn’t fake—the one Lena was beginning to take count of, wanting to keep track of how many times she could elicit it—and rather than churning, rather than burning, rather than disgust, Lena just felt empty.

(The irony didn’t escape her: Lena was nothing like her family, and she wondered if in her efforts to prove that she somehow was, she too would erase her own character, she too would be lost among that flood of make-believe.)

x

Lena had told her mother that she would pursue more than a friendship like Lex had asked should she see an opening, but several weeks later, Lena realized that was a lie.

It wasn’t that…it had nothing to…she wasn’t changing her mind about Kara. She didn’t wake up one morning and decide that Lex and her mother were wrong after all; she didn’t confess the truth to Kara—tell her every terrible thing Lex and her mother (and Lena herself) had planned, admit to everything that was in store for the Supers. But Lena found—what she meant was that—she just felt…

Lex was wrong about this. A fake friendship was enough. It was. There was no need to be anything more.

(So what if Lena found herself staring longer than she should? So what if along with that forced distaste and disgust in her throat, Lena felt a flutter in her chest, a skip to the beat of her heart when her hand brushed Kara’s overly warm one? So what if at night she dreamed that she had never been raised as a Luthor and Kara wasn’t a Super and that they could just…be? Just exist and feel real, none of their interactions tinged with half-truths and flat out lies. So what if…so what if Lena wished for something different, something more, something that felt tangible and untouched by hate, unsoiled by the phantom influence of outside figures?

So what if somewhere along the way, that real and rare smile of Kara’s—the one that spoke of sadness and pain, the one that was selfless, the one that hinted at a joy yet to be uncovered—made Lena feel that the hate in her heart didn’t perhaps burn as brightly and as hot as she thought?)

Lena told her mother that she would pursue something more than a friendship, like Lex had instructed, but the truth was…the truth was that…it just meant…

It was just that, despite the way Kara’s laugh made her feel warm, despite the way Kara’s rambling seemed endearing despite its forced nature, despite the ‘S’ emblazoned on her chest and the reminders of who and what Kara really was (or rather, _because of_ these things), Lena took a step back, erected another wall, and though the opportunity was there—though she was rather sure she had the chance to pursue something more like Lex instructed—she chose not to.

And really, that should’ve been the first sign of her fall.

x

“You did well with the gala,” Lillian told her as she sipped from her wine glass. “I think it would have been more effective if you’d gotten hurt, but I suppose this was fine.”

“Effective or dramatic, Mother?” Lena asked, tilting her head to the side in question. “Besides, Kara doesn’t even know you’re behind Cadmus yet.”

“Oh, is it Kara now?” She placed the wine glass down, sitting back in her seat, ignoring her food and the other patrons in the restaurant. The Luthor name went a long way here, a table left empty every night just for them, and with Lillian living in National City, Lena found herself eating at the restaurant more and more often. It was private, but more importantly, it gave her an opportunity to be far from Kara—to avoid her a little more while her feelings were so…erratic. “You and the alien are _close_.”

“Friends tend to call each other by their first name, yes,” Lena said tiredly, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Even if it’s all pretend.”

“I wonder if you actually believe that,” Lillian said, wiping her mouth with her napkin delicately and tossing it on the table, indicating she was done with this meeting. (And that was exactly what it was, a meeting. A brief to ensure Lena was on track, that she knew what was expected of her. It wasn’t as if Lillian wanted dinner with her adoptive daughter, it wasn’t as if Lillian cared about anything beyond getting Lex’s revenge.) “Don’t disappoint me, Lena. Remember what you’re doing and who you’re doing it for.”

“You repeat that as if I’m actually likely to forget,” Lena said as Lillian got to her feet. For a second, Lena thought her mother might actually smile, but the moment was gone as quickly as it came, and Lillian seemed as exasperated and disappointed as ever.

“It’s not that I think you’ll forget, Lena,” she said softly, her voice dangerous, “it’s that I think you don’t even know what it means.”

x

The sight of the Super in her office, proclaiming her to be ‘too good’ and ‘too smart’ to go down the same path as her family was one that Lena didn’t think she was ever likely to forget.

The proclamation, said ferociously, said certainly, said with desperation, elicited conflicting feelings almost by ease. How could Lena maintain eye contact with such unwavering faith and admit the truth, admit that she _knew_ about Cadmus and her mother, if not about the kidnapping and the virus to wipe out the aliens? How could Lena stare Supergirl ( _Kara_ ) in the eye and offer help and assistance when it was all a lie?

( _Hate them_ , Lex had told her. Hate them for what they did, hate them for what they stood for, hate them for believing they were somehow above the rest of humanity—for allowing themselves to become false gods and flawed heroes. _Hate them,_ Lex had told her.

Hate them even when there were tears in Supergirl’s eyes, when all her acting and pretending slipped and for an instant she wasn’t Kara Danvers or Supergirl, but an alien who lost everything and now was being threatened with losing more. _Hate them_ , Lex had said, but Lena didn’t think he had ever seen Superman’s face crumple, ever watched as faith was replaced by cold disappointment, ever saw not the vengeful anger of a scorned god in the Super’s eyes, but _fear_.)

Perhaps it was the lack of that real smile that did it. Or perhaps it was the fact that Lena couldn’t reconcile the fear in Kara’s eyes with the hero she’d been told to despise. Perhaps, even, it was because she truly believed the weak excuse she later gave her mother, that stopping Medusa was the nail in the coffin of earning the Super’s trust.

Whatever her reason, however, she found herself switching the isotope, found herself calling the police, found herself shrugging off Supergirl’s attempt to talk to her after Lillian’s arrest. Whatever her reason, she thought that—somewhere along the way, much like Supergirl and Kara herself—the line between doing the right thing and doing the right thing for the wrong reasons became blurred, indistinguishable from one another. Which meant that she had to admit something she didn’t want to admit:

Her mother had been right; she didn’t know what she was doing, and she most certainly didn’t know who she was doing it for.

(For her family? For a dead Lionel, an imprisoned and mad Lex, a mother who never really loved her anyway?

For her name? A name she once considered cursed, a name she spent so much of her time trying to distance herself from?

For acceptance? To finally, _finally_ , belong to a family that never considered her one of them? To just stop fighting a losing battle and accept what she couldn’t change—that no matter what she did the world would still weigh her down with the burden that was her last name?)

 _Hate them_ , Lex had told her.

 _Be your own hero_ , the Super had told her.

And she couldn’t help but wonder—as she read article after article celebrating the heroism of the last free Luthor, the only ‘good’ Luthor—which one of those phrases had influenced her more.

x

It was a week before Lena saw either of Kara’s false identities again. She was just surprised that Kara Danvers was the first one to knock on her door, led into Lena’s office by a wary looking Jess. (Lena had expected Supergirl first, had thought that she would get some sort of apology for the way she’d thrown around accusations, maybe even a thank you for sending her own mother to jail. The threat had been real enough, even if Lillian’s anger over the outcome had been somewhat pacified by Lena’s excuses, and Lena had put an end to it—she deserved _some_ sort of reaction. Literally anything would do.)

“Here for the interview of the year?” Lena asked the moment Kara sat down across from her, the desk between them simultaneously too wide and not wide enough. She wanted Kara closer, wanted to feel her warmth and breathe in her sweet scent. And yet…she also wanted distance, wanted space to allow her ribs to expand, her lungs to fill with air untainted by the hate she was told to feel and the softness she was struggling to keep at bay. “I’m afraid I’ll have to give you the same answer as all the other reporters who’ve knocked on my door this past week: no comment.”

Kara looked down at the mention of the long week that had passed since they last spoke, pressing her lips tightly together and adjusting her glasses. She seemed uncharacteristically nervous, even for bumbling Kara Danvers, and Lena wondered how much of it was an act and how much was just anxiety.

“I’m not here for an interview, actually,” she admitted in a soft voice, not looking back up. “I was, um…away. For a while. But I’m back now and I thought you could use a friend.”

It was the lie that made Lena pause, the lie and not the fact that she was struck by Kara’s kindness. (It was _only_ the lie, the fact that she’d seen Supergirl flying around all week, meaning that Kara had most certainly been in National City. She wasn’t touched by the concern on Kara’s eyes and she didn’t find herself inclined to forgive the Super for the week-long absence. The concern and investment etched into the crease between Kara’s eyebrows didn’t sway Lena at all. The _lie_ was what was important. The _lie_ was what made Lena’s head spin, her cheeks heating up with frustration. _Hate them_ , Lex had told her. _Hate them_.)

( _Be your own hero_.)

“I’m fine,” Lena finally said, perhaps a little shortly. She expected Kara to drop it, expected her to play with the arm of her glasses, sigh, and move onto something else. She didn’t expect Kara to shake her head, her chin tilting up, her eyes hardening.

“No,” she said, “you’re not.” Lena opened her mouth—not really knowing what she wanted to say but knowing she had to say _something_ —but Kara shook her head yet again and spoke before Lena had a chance to get a single word out. “You don’t have to always be so strong, Lena,” she said earnestly, looking every bit the Super despite the glasses and the hunched shoulders. “It’s okay to let people in—it’s okay to ask for help.” Her voice got soft, her eyes became so _sad_ , like she had experience with what she was talking about—like she knew what it meant to be alone. “It’s okay not to be fine.”

( _Hate them_ , Lex had said. But Lena…

…she didn’t.)

“You’re right,” she admitted, voices in her head—voices that sounded suspiciously like Lex and Lillian—screaming for her to be quiet, voices that she always avoided in fear of disappointing them. They told her she had a job to do. They told her not to be swayed by the Super’s charm. It was an act, it was all an act.

And yet…and yet…

Kara’s smile was so _real_. It was sad today, smaller and more muted, but no less brilliant, no less true. And for all the lies, for all the half-truths, Lena wanted to give something back—to be _honest_ the way Kara’s smile was.

“My mother and I…I told you before that we never really got along. But she…she taught me to play chess, she encouraged Lex to spend more time with me. She wasn’t,” Lena stopped, unsure how to word the strained relationship she had with Lillian Luthor, how to express that she’d always known Lillian didn’t want her and thought her unnecessary but also always ensured that Lena was content, comfortable…censured. “She wasn’t _evil_ , Kara. She wasn’t actively cruel. She was just absent, a little bit cold. She kept her distance and I…I learned to pretend it didn’t hurt.” At her words, Kara’s eyes widened, that real smile fading completely, her lips turned down in a concerned frown. Something about the set of her shoulders and the tilt of her head and the focus in her eyes reminded Lena of Supergirl but it was also entirely new, a side to Kara she hadn’t yet seen—a glimpse, perhaps, into the alien that Kara made every effort to hide.

“She’s your mother,” she said softly, that perennial sadness in her eyes. Kara spoke as if she had a clue, as if she spent her entire life diligently striving towards a goal she knew she’d never be able to reach—Kara spoke like she understood Lena’s position, understood hoping and working for that one act, that one word, that would break through all of a mother’s icy barriers and earn the love that another sibling received so liberally.

But how was Lena supposed to confront Kara? How was she supposed to call her out, ask her if she _did_ truly understand? How could she look Kara in the eyes and say that she knew what Kara was, knew what she’d lost, knew about all that she’d _gained_?

Lena looked at Kara and felt like she was suffocating beneath the sorrow of loss Kara carried so easily on her shoulders—not stumbling once despite an entire planet’s history balanced on her back. She looked at Kara and she wanted to ask, wanted to throw caution to the wind and give up the charade, desperate to know the answer.

 _Do_ you _know what if feels like not to be loved?_

But instead:

“Yes. She’s my mother.”

x

When they had exchanged phone numbers, Lena had convinced herself it was only to prove that she was a friend—a perfunctory gesture that held little to no meaning. It wasn’t as if Kara would actually _call_ her, still taking to scheduling every single one of their meetings and lunches with Jess. So Lena was understandably surprised when she received a text from Kara out of the blue asking if she wanted to see a movie. She was surprised, which made her reckless enough to accept without a second thought.

She regretted it fully when she knocked on the door to Kara’s apartment, armed only with ice cream (which she had brought after several minutes of anxiously wondering if she _should_ take anything to a movie night with her sort-of friend, Supergirl). She regretted agreeing at all when the door opened to reveal a miserable-looking Kara, clad in an over-sized shirt, her hair pulled back loosely at the nape of her neck.

(Her eyes were red-rimmed behind her glasses and Lena wondered if Supers could cry, if their tears were irritants, if pain was a concept they could actually comprehend.

She was ashamed of her thought not even a second later. If there was one thing she learned about Kara it was that she felt _everything—_ every ounce of pain, every shred of joy, every heavy drop of sorrow.

No amount of acting could hide that.)

“Kara?” she said, the question behind it remaining tacit as Kara swallowed hard and bit her lip, shifting from foot to foot.

“I’m fine,” she said after a moment more of dancing, finally moving aside so that Lena could step into the apartment. She closed the door behind them and then took the ice cream gratefully, setting it on the kitchen island before shuffling through drawers and cabinets for spoons and bowls. “You didn’t have to bring anything, you know,” she said quickly, wiping at her face while her back was turned. “It’s just a movie night, it’s not a big deal. I mean, it is. Because you’re here and I love spending time with you—I just mean—but it wasn’t necessary…do you want chocolate syrup on yours?” she asked, turning to look at Lena with an exasperated expression, seemingly vaguely annoyed at herself for the babbling.

“What’s wrong, Kara?”

“Nothing!” she said immediately, turning away once more to dig through her fridge. Lena blinked at how terribly empty it was, worse even than her own fridge. “What makes you—why would you think there’s something wrong?”

“Because I’m your friend. Because you haven’t looked at me since I got here. Because it’s obvious you’ve been crying.”

(She didn’t mean to list the reasons like that—she hadn’t meant to be so _blunt_. But she was worried, unfamiliar with the way Kara’s hands were shaking, not really recognizing the tremor in Kara’s voice.

Not that she was worried _for_ Kara. No. She was worried for the safety of National City, thinking about the logistics of having a hero who was emotionally unstable. That was it. Obviously.)

“Right,” Kara said softly, shoulders dropping as she let the fridge door swing shut, turning to stare Lena straight in the eyes, the blue so clear behind her glasses. (It was unnerving. Looking into Kara’s eyes was always unnerving. Maybe because Lena wasn’t comfortable with the age and sorrow and pain swirling in them, the hints of another culture and world brightening and dulling the hue on a whim. Or maybe it was because Lena was always waiting for that moment those soft blue eyes hardened, turning icy from the sting of betrayal.) “You’re right,” Kara said on a sigh, leaning heavily on the island, elbows propped up on the wood. “I’m not fine.”

“You’ve been crying?” she asked, not seeing the point in beating around the bush.

“Um. Yes. I suppose.”

“Why?”

“It…” Kara trailed off, letting out a heavy sigh, her eyes shutting almost as if on their own accord. Her hands went up to the arms of her glasses, but instead of fiddling with it—needlessly straightening them—she fingered the plastic, like she was trying to come to a decision. Lena’s breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttering to a stop, and then—and then…

And then Kara’s hand dropped back down and her eyes opened, as if nothing had just happened, as if she hadn’t just looked like she was going to admit her secret, as if she hadn’t just made Lena feel as if what was between them was _real_.

(It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. It was Lena’s own fault for forgetting, even for a moment, that this was all a game, that the purpose was to earn the Super’s trust to bring her down, not—

It was nothing. She was stupid for thinking otherwise.) 

“It’s my birthday,” Kara said quietly after a moment’s pause and Lena met her gaze unflinchingly.

(A game. A lie. An act.

But that smile, that brilliant, uninhibited smile…)

“You don’t like your birthday?”

“I was adopted. My parents…they um, died in a fire.” She wanted to feel angry at the lie, but she didn’t. If anything, that catch in the back of Kara’s throat, the way the words stumbled out of her mouth like she was forcing them out, like giving away this little detail caused her _pain_ , made Lena wish that she could take Kara by the shoulders and tell her it would be okay, it would all be okay (a lie of her own, adding to the lies between them, a never-ending and ceaseless cycle). “One of the ways the Danvers made me feel less alone was by always being around on my birthday.” She smiled, her fingers tapping against the wood, a faraway expression on her face. “Alex drove back home right after an exam once, drove straight through the night just so that we could spend my birthday together.” The tiny smile pulling at her lips faded all at once, her eyebrows furrowing, that telltale crease appearing on her forehead. “She was here earlier. Said nothing would change between us, ever. But—I just.” She looked up, and Lena was shocked to see watery eyes, a single tear rolling down Kara’s cheek. “I feel like I’m trying to hold on to water, and everything keeps spilling from my grasp, and I’m just _losing_ everyone and everything.”

(She didn’t say _again,_ but she didn’t need to.

It was said in between the heaving of her chest, was inscribed in the downturn of her lips, etched into the tapping of her fingers and the nervous energy that wafted off of her.

She didn’t say _again_ , but the fear in her voice made it clear anyway.)

“Kara…” Lena began, not quite sure hot to help, not quite sure if she was even the person Kara needed right now.

“I really did invite you over for a movie,” Kara said quickly, not waiting for Lena to formulate a response. “I didn’t meant to unload on you, I just—I feel…I, um, feel better when you’re around. I know this wasn’t what you thought you were getting into when you came over, I just—” She cut herself off when Lena reached out and took her tapping hand, squeezing gently before releasing it almost immediately. (Kara was so _warm_ , and it left Lena feeling a little bit like she’d just been burned, a sensation she didn’t quite understand because of the lack of pain and the pounding in her chest.)

“Kara, I’m glad you called me. We’re friends.” This lie came so easily to her now, the words slipping from her tongue as if she’d been saying them her entire life and not just the past several months of knowing Kara. Except, somewhere along the way, she was rather sure it stopped being a lie and instead became a prayer. “As your friend, I want to be here for _you_ , not some film.”

“But the movie—”

“—will be there tomorrow.” She smiled at the look on Kara’s face, taking in the wide eyes and the open mouth, lips formed into a perfect ‘o.’ “Besides, I know someone who once told me that it’s okay to ask for help—to not be fine. And she’s the kindest and smartest person I know, so I think I’ll take her at her word.” Kara ducked her head in response, ears tinged pink, some sort of cross between ‘ _aww_ ’ and ‘ _pfft_ ’ escaping her lips.

And when she looked back up, Lena was infinitely relieved that in light of the dazzling smile on Kara’s lips, the red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks were barely noticeable.

(And the flutter in her chest should’ve been warning enough, but Lena was so focused on making sure the smile didn’t fade that she didn’t notice it at all.)

x

She endured her mother’s flight from prison, the subsequent framing, the weak excuse Lillian gave about it all being ‘a test’ to see if Supergirl really did trust Lena Luthor (to see if Supergirl would defend Lena even if all the evidence was stacked against her, all signs pointing to her as being as guilty as her mother and brother), knowing that there had to be a reason that Lillian was willing to put all their planning in jeopardy—knowing that something had changed enough that Lex’s plot for revenge was being scrapped and replaced with something new.

(Her suspicions were confirmed when Lillian dragged her out to one of Lex’s old hideaways. Her fear was kindled when her mother got away with the small metal box that had made Lillian smile so widely.

Lena stared at her chessboard, wondering if it’d all been a distraction from the start. She wondered if she’d been played as a pawn, told she was useful and needed doing menial work on the front line while her mother and brother laid out the real trap on the fringes of the board.

She wondered if she was playing on the same side as her family at all.)

With a groan, Lena rubbed her eyes with the base of her palms, suddenly feeling tired and drained. She supposed she had an excuse, not having slept since they tossed her into that dark cell, her head still aching from the blow she’d received when Cyborg Superman knocked her to the ground. She’d been told to stay away from alcohol for a while, but she looked at the decanter full of wine and she wondered if it would be so bad, really.

One drink—it couldn’t possibly hurt.

“Lena?”

( _I’ve spent most of my life wishing that I could talk to people that are no longer here_ , Kara said what felt like years ago now. It wasn’t her first heartfelt confession, but it was the first that hinted at something beyond the girl in the glasses and the Super in the cape. And Lena…

No. Lena didn’t feel anything. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.)

“Kara! Back so soon? Did you forget something?” she asked, eyes flickering down to the table and the floor, as if to check for errant notebooks or pens.

“Um, yes, actually,” Kara said, cheeks flaming. She didn’t adjust her glasses, didn’t even reach for them, remaining unnaturally still as she cleared her throat and faced Lena head on. If Lena didn’t know any better, she’d say Kara was preparing for a fight. “I, um. I just wanted to…” She took several shaky steps forward, eyes never leaving Lena’s.

“…yes?” Lena prompted. Kara stopped, clenched her hands into fists, bit her lip, and let out a frustrated sigh.

“We do this thing,” she said, waving one hand in the air as if to dispel the awkwardness, disappointment flooding her features, “my friends and I. Game night.”

“Okay?”

“It used to be every few weeks, but with…well, with all the _crazy_ going on in our lives, it just sort of stopped.” Her hand stopped gesticulating wildly and instead went straight for her glasses, shaking them as if to remind herself they were still there. “But we’re having one this weekend. Game night, I mean. And I don’t know if it’s something you’d like or even have time for, but it’d be really nice if you came. Not that you have to or anything, I don’t want to pressure you, but if it helps, I’m _great_ at charades and I could guarantee you a win if we teamed up.” Her eyes widened comically. “Not that we have to team up if you came! I’d just be glad you were there. Just don’t team up with Winn. It’s not that he’s not a good partner, but he’s just…not very good at games in general. But I mean, it might not be your thing either, so maybe—this was a bad idea, wasn’t it?” She finally stopped, chest heaving as she took in several deep breaths, a crease between her brows, her glasses actually slipping down the bridge of her nose before she quickly nipped the movement in the bud and shoved it back into place.

“It’s a great idea, Kara,” Lena said, unsure if she believed it or not. Other than chess, she didn’t really have experience with games. A Luthor didn’t have time to waste on such frivolous activities—or so Lillian liked to say, pretending she didn’t know Lex had snuck playing cards from their father’s study and taught Lena to play poker while their parents slept. “Do you want me to be your partner, though? I don’t think I’d be any good.”

“I _always_ win, Lena,” Kara said haughtily, scoffing a little. “But believe me, you and me together? We’ll be unstoppable.”

Lena nodded, unable to help her smile, and she thought that maybe—the white knight just out of sight, at the center of the chessboard—she did know what she was doing and who she was doing it for.

(Because when Kara smiled her real smile, Lena didn’t remind herself to hate the Supers. She just wanted to be the reason that smile never left Kara’s lips.)

x

Kara’s friends did not like her, nor did they make any attempt to hide that fact.

She got icy looks from James, an ever-present glare from Mike and Winn, observant eyes from Maggie, and distrust from Alex. All of Kara’s pursed lips and silent pleas went ignored, making the hour Lena endured with them (for Kara, only for Kara and that real smile) awkward and stilted.

She pretended not to hear the huff of relief when she faked an important phone call from a business partner abroad. She pretended she didn’t see the disappointment on Kara’s face as Lena left with barely a goodbye.

It didn’t matter, she thought as she told her driver, Peter, to take her home.

What had she expected, she thought as she collapsed into bed.

She’d known it from the day Lex went mad, the day she lost the only person she adored and adored her back:

(She was tired of the acting, tired of being a Luthor when she wasn’t (DNA be damned), tired of being a friend when she wasn’t.

She known it for so long, but it finally sank in as she closed her eyes to stop the hot tears from spilling over onto her cheeks—she wasn’t supposed to cry, crying was improper, when would she _learn_?)

It was better to be alone.

x

She lasted a day.

More accurately, Kara allowed her only a day of ignoring phone calls and texts before she stormed into Lena’s office. Lena wanted to ask if Kara knew she was still at work because she’d flown by just moments before, L-Corp dark except for the light in Lena’s office. Lena wanted to ask if Kara was glad she got her friends back, united behind her if only to scare away the scourge that was _Luthor_. Lena wanted to ask if it was wrong for her to blame Kara for the warmth in her chest and the fluttering deep in her stomach and the lightness of her heart every single time she looked at Kara—Super or not. She wanted to ask if it was so wrong to hate someone solely because she fell in love with them—with the ‘S’ emblazoned on their suit, with the crease between their eyes, with that brilliant, uninhibited, _real_ smile on their lips.

(Because Lena, she _hated_ Kara. She hated Kara’s laugh and her passion and her desire to do the right thing. She hated that Kara trusted her and believed in her when all she’d ever done was lie— _lie, lie like a Super_ —and hurt and distanced herself. She hated Kara’s warmth and her sweet scent and her unwavering faith and optimism even in light of everything that had happened to her. Lena _hated_ Kara Danvers, she hated Supergirl, she hated the babbling and the courage and the ducked head and the confident pose. She _hated, hated, hated_ …

She _hated_ that she was in love.)

“Kara,” Lena began tiredly, not even bothering to look up at Kara, knowing she’d find nothing but apologies and promises, none of which Lena wanted. “I’m really busy, I honestly just don’t have time for this right now.” It was all quite ironic, humorous in a dark way she thought her father would have appreciated. She’d been tasked to get close to the Super, told to gain her trust so that she could be in position to strike at any time, and yet…

And yet _Lena_ was the one to fall, Lena was the one who allowed Kara to get so close, close enough that the walls and disguises and armor she’d been so proud of had broken and shattered without her notice.

“Don’t lie to me,” Kara said, voice hard. Lena raised an eyebrow, unable to help looking over at Kara, immediately wondering if she’d missed something. Because Kara wasn’t wearing her glasses, her hair was down, her shirt ruffled, something bright red sticking out of the collar. “You’ve been staring at the same news article on your computer for the last hour.”

“I—excuse me?”

“You knew, don’t pretend you didn’t know who I was the _second_ I walked into this office with Clark.” Her featured hardened as she stepped closer, forgoing the chair on the other side of Lena’s desk and instead approaching Lena directly. “You’ve known this _whole_ time.”

“What do you want from me, Kara?”

(She was tired of the lies. Tired of the pretending. Tired of not knowing who she was anymore—unwilling to allow herself to be swept away by that flood of make-believe she let Lex and Lillian convince her was real.

It took a while, but it all finally made sense: if being a Luthor meant hating the Supers…well, she was no Luthor.)

“Tell me that what Winn and James found out about you isn’t true. Tell me this whole thing wasn’t a lie.” She gestured between them and Lena thought about that chessboard, her certainty that she was a pawn in her family’s games. Was it necessary to continue dragging Kara along behind her as she was tossed about, trying to keep her head above the stormy seas that were her brother and mother? Maybe Kara would be better off if she was cut cleanly free. Maybe Kara would be safer if she didn’t have to constantly watch her back around Lena’s presence.

“I can’t do that,” she said carefully, unintentionally mimicking Kara by raising her chin, deepening her voice, setting her shoulders.

“So saving Alex, stopping those thieves, saving every alien in the city, getting framed for Lillian’s escape, that was all what? Just an elaborate plot to get me to trust you? All that time and effort to prove what?”

“I don’t know what you want from me, Kara,” she said levelly, making Kara’s eyes narrow.

“I want you to tell me the truth!”

“You seem to already know the truth,” Lena said calmly, making sure to keep her voice even despite the clawing she felt in her chest. She’d once thought that nothing would be more painful than growing up feeling unwanted and unloved. She’d once thought nothing could hurt more than losing her father and brother—the only two people she ever relied on. But breaking her own heart? It was more painful than she could ever have imagined. “I’m sure Winn and James have told you everything.”

(She didn’t say that Winn and James could’ve told Kara that she was singlehandedly responsible for Kara’s favorite restaurant closing its doors, or that she was the reason it rained on holidays, or even that she was the one who asked Cat Grant to leave CatCo, and she would’ve nodded in solemn agreement, admitting guilt and fault without a second thought.

She didn’t say that it didn’t really matter what Kara knew or didn’t know. Lena wanted to make sure Kara left her office never wanting to come back again.)

“Bullshit,” Kara snapped, advancing closer. The curse didn’t shock Lena as much as the fury in Kara’s eyes. She’d thought that those blue eyes would become ice-cold and harden if the truth ever came out. But now that it had, it wasn’t ice Lena saw in Kara’s eyes, but _fire_. “I said you’d always have someone to stand up for you, and I meant it. And you, Lena Luthor, are not the evil person you think you are. And if you think for one second that I’m giving up on you, you’re wrong.”

“Kara—”

“You say everything between us has been a lie, but I don’t believe you. You might be a good actor, Lena, but you can’t hide how much you care, and it’s—it’s _infuriating_ that you actually think that someone can pretend to be so kind and gentle and _good_ , and if you’re not going to believe in yourself, then I guess I’ll have to believe enough for the both of us, because—”

She didn’t know what made her do it.

(Perhaps that was the real lie. She knew exactly what made her do it. Because it was Kara, because it was freely offered trust and belief, because it was passion and Lena was _tired_ of ignoring that pounding of her heart and that hitch in her breath each time Kara even glanced her way.

She did it because she’d been wanting to since maybe the day she met Kara, definitely since the day they had lunch together for the first time. She did it because Kara was warm and kind and Lena was so in love, ‘S’ on Kara’s chest and family history and all those warnings that sounded suspiciously like Lex be damned.)

It was less than graceful, her sudden jump from her chair, closing the last of the distance between them, but the second their lips meant, nothing else seemed to matter.

(Kara tasted of tears and Lena didn’t know if it was because Kara was crying or if she was shedding her own silent tears.)

And Kara—Kara’s arms immediately wrapped around Lena’s neck, pulling her impossibly closer, treating Lena as if she was made of glass even as she kissed harder, like she was attempting to _show_ the words she’d said just moments before, wanting to make sure Lena understood.

And Lena…

She did.

When Lena pulled away—cursing her human biology and the need to breathe, her chest heaving while Kara looked unruffled and unbothered—there was a wide grin on Kara’s face.

It was that real smile, that uninhibited, _brilliant_ smile that Lena fell in love with, but it was also different. Her expression was tinged with smugness, unbridled joy in the crinkles at the corner of her eyes, and those blue eyes—always so sad, always filled with such sorrow and pain—were brighter, bluer if that was possible, when the load on Kara’s shoulders, for just a moment, was lifted.

“We’re going to have to talk, I think,” Kara said wryly, playing with Lena’s hair, twirling one lock around her finger and tugging lightly. She became a little more serious before she continued. “No more secrets?”

“No more secrets,” Lena confirmed.

x

“You were right about Lillian Luthor,” Alex said, hands on her hips. Her eyes were on whatever Winn was working on, but her focus was clearly on Lena and the computer screen in front of her. “And I owe you an apology.”

“What?” Lena’s genuine shock at Alex’s words made the elder Danvers sigh and turn to her, a weary expression on her face.

“I didn’t give you a chance, just labeled you as guilty because of your name, and even though _technically_ I was right and you were working with your mom and brother at first, I’m sorry for not trusting you after you came clean about everything.”

“Yeah,” Winn added, “you’re the only reason Lillian’s back in custody. It’s just that—” He dropped the tech in his hands onto the table with a clang, leaning towards Lena with a wince. “I love Kara, I do. But can you _please_ get her to stop saying ‘I told you so?’”

“The _point_ ,” Alex said, rolling her eyes and clapping Lena on the shoulders, looking as terribly awkward as Lena felt, “is that I was wrong about you, Luthor. And to make it up to you, how about a redo of game night?”

“I don’t know…”

“Scared I’ll win at Scrabble?” Winn asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Even Kara has trouble beating me at Scrabble.”

“Don’t lie,” Alex admonished. “Kara’s been kicking ass at Scrabble since she was thirteen.” She grinned at Lena, launching into an explanation. “Teaching her English was a nightmare, especially since Clark wasn’t around to help and he was the only one who sort of understood her. We were really lucky that Kara picks up languages so easily.” Her smile widened, like this was a fond memory. “I will never forget those three months that I beat Kara at Scrabble _every time_ we played.”

“Are you sure?” Lena asked, raising her eyebrows and studying Alex closely. She didn’t have tells like Kara—or at least, Lena didn’t know her well enough to notice them. Lena had no clue if the offer was genuine, if they sincerely wanted to offer this olive branch, or if it was a trick—a ploy.

(Lionel would have told her to look for the advantages of such a gathering. Lillian would have scoffed, thinking it beneath the Luthor name. And Lex…Lex would have told her to watch out for the double cross, the secret agenda beneath the invitation.

But Kara would say to give everyone a chance, that everyone deserved it.)

“We’re not there yet,” Alex said uncomfortably, shrugging a little, “but you’re important to my sister, which means you’re important to me, so I want to try. I want to be your friend.”

At that moment, the unmistakable sound of Kara’s boots landing on the balcony rang throughout the building—Kara once again not slowing down enough before she touched down—and there was a flurry of movement, agents rushing about to hear the latest about the efforts to gather the last of those associated with Cadmus (finally falling apart without Lillian or Cyborg Superman pulling any strings).

Winn rushed off, wanting to show Kara what he’d been working on, but Alex lingered, staring at Lena with a raised eyebrow.

“So?” she asked, a slight teasing tint to her voice, one that Lena had only ever gotten from Lex, and something positively _ached_ in her chest at the memory. “What do you say, Luthor? Wanna start over?”

“You didn’t change your mind about me just because I helped the DEO stop my mother. If we’re starting over, let’s be honest.”

Alex laughed, looking terribly _thrilled_ at the comment, a new respect in her eyes as she grinned at Lena.

“You’re right. It’s just—here’s the thing: I have never seen Kara happier than when she’s Supergirl—until _now_.” She gave Lena a significant look, shrugging again. “Using her powers to help people made Kara Zor-El feel like she was spared for a reason. But you? You made Kara Danvers feel like she belongs.” She clapped Lena on the back again, a subtle nudge to look over at Kara.

She was deep in conversation with Winn, hands waving about as she raved over the small device Winn held in his hands, but almost as if she could feel Lena’s eyes, she turned, meeting Lena’s gaze, that _real_ smile immediately appearing on her lips.

“See?” Alex said smugly.

Lena didn’t speak for a moment, too distracted by Kara’s smile, but then she blinked rapidly and turned her attention back to Alex, her turn to be smug.

“How do you feel about poker?”

When Lena turned back to Kara, she was still smiling that smile—the real one, the one that she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, fake—and Lena allowed her eyes to flutter shut.

She’d promised Kara no more secrets, but the one floating in her chest—the one at the tip of her tongue, the one laced in every single touch, her fingertips leaving impressions she was surprised Kara couldn’t see or read on her skin—could wait…at least, for a while.

Then again, if Alex’s huff and the teasing Maggie and Winn had subjected her to were any indication, she didn’t think her loving Kara was much of a secret at all.


End file.
